The Dormitory of What Was Left
The dormitory wasn't grand.
It was built like the rest of Celestis Veil—efficient, harmonic, shaped from polished tonewood and resonance glass.
But to Zephryn, it felt like walking into a room that had remembered him wrong.
Kaelen led the way. Yolti stayed close. Neither of them spoke.
There were six beds to a hall. Three bunked rows. Each etched with a personal glyph on the corner of the frame—identifiers bound to the Lyceum registry.
Zephryn's was the only one without a glyph.
Just blank wood.
Waiting.
He stood at the foot of it, scarf still tucked around his neck. It hadn't come off since the forest. Not since the unmasking.
Selka stepped through the doorway last.
She didn't look at him.
Not in shock. Not in avoidance.
She simply accepted it.
Like she knew he'd return eventually.
Like it wasn't something to react to.
Just… something true.
Kaelen cleared his throat. "They haven't reassigned your old space. Which is weird, considering they burned your file."
Yolti glanced around. "I think they knew. Even if they didn't want to."
Zephryn didn't sit.
He just placed the envelope on the bed. It stayed there, unopened.
No one asked why.
Later, after the light glyphs dimmed, they sat around the edge of the common table. Quiet. No ceremony. Just presence.
Yolti stirred her cup absently. "We kept the scarf."
Zephryn looked at her.
Kaelen nodded. "She wore it. Every training session. Every scan. It still smells like—"
He cut off.
Selka was the one who finished.
"Lilac and smoke."
Zephryn finally spoke.
His voice didn't echo. It didn't tremble. It simply… existed.
"Thank you."
Just that.
But it filled the room like a name no one dared speak until the right time.